Post by ZaCloud on Oct 28, 2009 17:02:49 GMT -5
Mourning, Evening, Night
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Edos Lee, looking drawn and haggard, closed his eyes and stood, shoulders slumped. Moira's anguished howls spread over the desert sands like the crimson light of the setting sun. The blond woman was clutching Robert, her cries muffled against his unmoving chest. Lee started to lower his left hand to her shoulder, but stopped when he saw it, too, was crimson; he had done all he could to operate on the wound in Robert's abdomen, but the damage had been too severe. Even with better conditions and instruments, his chances had been slim. But that did not make the loss any less heavy, especially to the woman who loved him.
Lee straightened, still staring at his bloody hand, then closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, brow creased. “I am sorry...” he said quietly, before walking away and sitting against a petrified tree at the edge of the scraggly grove. He folded his arms, hands hanging open past his elbows, resting his forehead on his forearms. He had no actual regrets; he had given his all. But losing one more of his men pained him.
“Shit... shit... SHIT!” Jason screamed, jerking his fists at his sides, beginning to pace back and forth, throwing his head every few syllables, violet hair amplifying the motions. “That's fucked UP, man! That's fucked UP! Why fuckin' Robby, man? Why Robby?”
Chad, the green-haired and pierced secretary, set a hand on his shoulder. “I dunno dude...”
“Don't touch me!” Jason roared, swinging his arm and forcing the surprised Chad back several steps, “Just don't, ok? Not right now...” He rubbed his hands harshly over his face, then clutched his hair, heading several steps away from the others. “Goddamn it! Son of a bitch...”
The others were quiet, either grim or tearful. Raksha was kneeling by Moira, stroking her hair, at first ignored as the lighter woman continued to tearfully gaze at her dead fiancé's face. Then a new wave of sobs tore through her, and she clung to Raksha, desperately accepting the offered comfort.
“First my family, then Kev and Lindsey, and probably Saxton...” Jason snarled and grabbed his qiang from against the nearby tree, and began to stab furious furrows into the dusty ground. “If Rob couldn't live, who the hell else could in there?!” His jabbing faltered for a bit, his shoulders heaving, face full of anger which began to give way to despair. “I was hoping... was hoping that if he... then... shit!” He punctuated the swear with another hard impact against the ground. Then, after panting for a few more seconds, he resumed his attack, but now more purposefully, his expression taut.
And a few others, including one barely-showing blond shadow with his knife, and a grizzled but muscular man in overalls with a pitchfork, began to gravely work in the same area. Chad moved forward to help move the lose dirt out with his hands.
At the other end of their temporary base-camp, Edwin, the treasurer, had approached Lee, standing off to his right, his pudgy arms crossed against his tan blazer. “You did your best, boss,” he reflected gently.
“It's not just Robert,” Lee said quietly, “We lost many. So many... And not just us. Everyone. This worn city we tried to protect... This dirty city we were slowly cleaning... It is gone. Not only what it was... but also what it could have been.”
Edwin's gray eyes looked wistful as he took this in, and he lowered his head, then pushed his glasses back up his nose as they slid down. “Yes... You've always been one to--”
“HE'S ALIVE!” Moira cried out excitedly, “Robby's alive!”
Everyone jerked their heads in the direction of the fallen and the two women around him. Sure enough, Robert, propped up in his girlfriend's lap, was groaning and reaching up, resting his hand on Moira's tear-streaked face. She was leaning over him, her tears now those of immeasurable joy. “Oh, Robby,” she whispered tenderly, “We'll help you, ok? You'll be alright sweetie.”
She leaned her head down and kissed him. His lips, in turn, curled around hers. Then she made a shocked sound in her throat, eyes opening and confused. She tried to pull away. But Robert had his teeth clamped on her lower lip. He ground down, crunching, blood gathering visibly on her flesh. “R-Rovvy?!” she squealed in pain and horror. Robert grabbed onto her head firmly, as she tried in vain to fit her fingers between his teeth.
“What the hell?!” Raksha burst, trying to help pry the man's jaws open, first with her hands, then with the blade of her knife. “Robby, are you confused? You're hurting Moira!” She managed to work her blade in mid-chew, and Moira tried to jerk away, but Robert's hands gripped her hair firmly. Raksha made the decision and drew another knife with her free hand, as the other kept the jaw from closing completely.
“Robert,” she said firmly, “Let go or I'll cut you.” He only snarled, pivoting his head to evade the current blade on his teeth, then diving at Moira's chin, teeth ripping into flesh again. Moira screamed. Raksha stabbed Robert in the cheek.
He roared and looked at Raksha. That was when she saw his eyes. They were devoid of anything human. Robert was gone. In his place was the crazed gleam of hunger. Crimson as the sky.
By then, most of the others had arrived, and pushed the raging corpse to the ground, pinning it with their collective weight. They barely hung on as it thrashed and moaned, its fingers still knotted in Moira's hair. Lee worked to pry them off, finally snapping the bones enough for the damaged woman to pull away, leaving several curly locks behind, blood and tears and spit oozing from her face as she crab-walked back.
“He's not human anymore,” Raksha announced. “Moira, I'm sorry, but we'll have to kill it.”
Moira could not answer, screaming behind her hands.
Lee himself was the one to kneel at the creature's head. It was whipping back and forth, emitting growls, howls, and groans which chilled everyone to the bone. The group leader pushed down on its forehead with a knee and a hand, while he felt for a pulse on the neck with the other. Seconds went by. He kept repositioning his hand, trying again and again.
“No pulse,” he announced. “This is a zombie.” He stood, drew Ryu-no-Kiba, and brought the blade down with full power, hacking diagonally through the face and head, splitting the skull and the brain. Dark blood only barely oozed, having no heartbeat to drive it, and the body twitched spasmodically for several seconds, before it fell still again.
Moira was inconsolable, wailing hysterically, kneeling over, rocking up and down. Raksha knelt in front of her, rubbing her back. “It wasn't twice,” she whispered, futile as it may have been, “I know it's too early to say this, but it wasn't twice, Moira. And he didn't do anything to you. Whatever caused this, it wasn't him, and he only left once in your arms.” The blond woman managed to nod once. “It still hurts like hell,” Raksha continued, “so take your time. We're here for you.”
Everyone looked between the heartbreaking scene, and the re-slain corpse.
“...Zombies now?” Jason snarled, voice quivering as his hands were, “Fucking ZOMBIES now?!”
“...Why did this happen?” asked Chad, “...How did this happen?!”
“Was it because he was bitten by those creatures?” wondered one of the Shadows with some visible black hair and black eyes.
“It hasn't happened to the rest of us who are wounded...” Lee observed, “We will have to be watchful to make sure it remains that way...” He looked down at the corpse, brow furrowed, before closing his eyes. “Kuso...” Then he sighed and turned toward Moira. “Raksha, how bad is the damage?”
The woman lifted the others' face gently, and her brow narrowed and twitched as she revealed the condition of the blond's face. Large chunks were missing from both her upper and lower lip, making her teeth and gums visible, and her chin was torn down to the muscle.
Lee looked around at the others. None of them were as proficient in medicine as he was. But he had just been the one to re-kill the woman's beloved... His head lowered.
Chad could read him like a book. “Boss... She needs your help. We can worry about the rest later.”
“We can worry about everything later,” a young female guard with light blue hair announced, “Something's coming!”
Everyone took in the sight of a human form stumbling toward them from a distance. From the other side, another. A few more from the north. Still more from the south. Dozens slowly pushing their way up from below the ground, their long shadows making their hands and heads visible long before the rest of their bodies emerged from their ancient graves.
The mercenaries slowly closed into a ring around the wounded and the non-combatants, facing the stumbling, limping, crawling forms. Not one of them did not shiver as they heard their guttural growls, scratchy screeches, and hoarse howls. What these beings were was clear, surreal yet vivid.
“...They have no circulation, right?” Edwin checked from a tentative position between the defenders and the defended.
“Correct,” answered Lee, his sword drawn, eyes focusing on the creatures approaching from his side.
“Then my pen is useless,” the treasurer sighed, moving to the center of the formation.
“The poison, perhaps,” Lee agreed, “but not the instrument. Take notes of this and all that has taken place so far, while there's still light. We must have accurate record of what has transpired so far.”
The man blinked, then took on a look of determination as he dug into his briefcase, and began to write furiously in his notebook.
“I'll take care of Moira,” Chad said, “at least as well as I can.” He set to work on re-opening the first-aid kit, trusting his back to those surrounding him.
“We must hold our ground,” Lee ordered to the rest, “Do not give, do not step too far forward. If you must move, return to the position you started from the moment you can. We are the perimeter. Do not expect normally fatal hits to work; they must be decapitated or incapacitated. Are you prepared?”
“YES, SIR!” everyone answered in unison.
“Take them as they come,” Lee commanded. Everyone stood at ready. One man in a brown coat began firing his pistol, which had been too risky in the sewer before. He took out a couple of the still-distant beings in four shots.
“I have eighteen bullets left,” he announced, “plus twelve for my shotgun. I'll save those and four shots for later. Call me to any side I'm needed worst on.”
“Over here then, Conrad,” Raksha answered, “There's a pretty big crowd that'll need thinned before we deal with them.
“Moving there now,” Conrad answered, sliding behind the others and taking up position, knocking down four more with four more shots, cycling around to thin further crowds.
Soon, he reached his limit, and moved back to load his sawed-off shotgun as those with melee weapons watched the remaining scores of creatures close in. It slowly became apparent that most of them were clad in the tattered rags of much older clothing. Some in the remains of uniforms from past armies. Many held rusted blades in their bony hands, raising them to bear as they shuffled closer. A few long-gone soldiers were raising rusted firearms, aiming at the group, and pulling the triggers, the weapons clicking futilely, their functionality long gone, the stocks rotted away and the ammunition useless.
“They're from the War...” the muscular man with a pitchfork observed, clenching his thick jaw in both disgust and sorrow.
In the hard, crimson, directional light of the sun fading below the horizon, every grotesque detail of the zombies could now be seen. Some were dragging long-broken limbs. Some were missing fingers, or hands, or one or both legs. Some had mummified entrails hanging from their bodies and dragging trails in the dust. Red light shone from their otherwise void eye sockets, slowly overtaking the same tone of light that was fading from the sky, replacing it amidst the coming blackness.
“HYAAAAAAAAAH!!!!” rang out the cries of determination as the Dragon's Claws began to strike at the waves of undead.
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The sun is setting.
The dead are rising.
This time of evening
Is time for mourning.
Mankind's most uttered wish
Has been fulfilled,
And of this
Do we cry.
[/i]The sun is setting.
The dead are rising.
This time of evening
Is time for mourning.
Mankind's most uttered wish
Has been fulfilled,
And of this
Do we cry.